Worlds Collide, page 26
“She looked good,” Viktor said.
“She did,” Josef agreed.
The scores posted. Warmth spread through Viktor’s chest as pride rose within him. “Those are better than her marks at the Olympics.”
“If she gets another medal, maybe we’ll finally be able to buy a heater for our house.”
Viktor leaned back in his seat. “Our turn will come.”
“It needs to come faster.”
Not in the mood for the familiar argument, Viktor asked, “Are you coming back to the hotel after Sonya finishes, or do you have to stay here until after the pairs competition is over?”
“I’ll be staying here,” Josef said. “Grigori wants me to observe while Samuil helps with the interviews after the ladies’ figures are over.”
“I guess I’ll be serving lunch without your help.” Viktor glanced at the KGB agent standing at the top of their section of the bleachers. “Will you be able to get something to eat here? Or should I save something for you?”
“Best save me a plate if you can,” Josef said. “Even when the organizers say we’ll be fed, it doesn’t always happen.”
“I’ll put a plate in the little refrigerator in our room.”
“Thanks, Papa.”
Viktor glanced at the KGB agent again. Would there ever be a time when he wasn’t being watched? They were in Canada, for heaven’s sake. That should give him at least a minute or two of freedom.
Josef stood. “I need to go to the media area.”
“I’ll see you later.”
The KGB agent followed Josef toward the concourse, and for a brief moment, Viktor tasted freedom. He let out a sigh. It wouldn’t last. Best not to get used to the sensation.
Viktor focused on the ice again, a skater in a pink dress working her way through one of the required figures.
Someone slipped into Josef’s seat, and Viktor turned, expecting his son to have returned. Instead, it was another man who was around his age. Broad through the shoulders, athletic in his build. He folded his coat and settled it between them. A paper dropped to the floor, and the man bent to pick it up. He unfolded it, held it out, and asked something in English that Viktor didn’t understand.
Viktor glanced down at the words on the paper, words written in Russian.
Take the coat. Check the pockets.
My friend is asking if the note is yours. Don’t take it.
K.
Viktor fought against his surprise and managed to shake his head. The other man shrugged and tucked the paper into his pocket before settling back in his seat. He remained there for several minutes, his focus on the ice. Viktor glanced behind him, checking to see if the KGB agent had returned. He hadn’t.
Though tempted to search the pockets of the coat lying beside him, Viktor didn’t dare. With his luck, the agent would return at the same moment Viktor tried to read the note.
A woman approached and spoke in English, pointing to the next section over. The man pulled his event ticket from his pocket and studied it. Then he shrugged and stood up, leaving the coat behind when he moved down the row and joined the woman.
The couple made their way onto the main concourse. A minute later, Viktor spotted them in the next section over taking their seats. As they did so, the KGB agent returned to his post.
Viktor feigned interest in the skater on the ice, counting down the last few competitors and checking the standings after each one. When the final standings posted for the figures competition, pride swelled in him once more. Second place. His daughter was in second place.
With today’s competition concluded, Viktor debated between which coat to take with him. Could he possibly take both? Or would it be too obvious if he tried to put one on over the other? And would he even be able to? He ran a hand over the brown coat Katerina’s friend had left. No holes, a thick lining, the possibility of a message in the pocket. If he had to choose, he would want this one. He picked up the new coat and slipped it on. Then he glanced at his old one. How would he explain the lack of holes in this new one? Would anyone even notice?
Viktor glanced over his shoulder at the KGB agent, who already had his coat on. No holes, no tears in the fabric. Maybe they would assume he too had started out with a coat in similar repair.
He quickly reached into the pocket of his old coat and retrieved his gloves and hotel key. Then he nudged the coat onto the floor so it would be out of sight.
“Viktor.” The agent called from a few rows up. “It’s time.”
Ignoring the pounding of his heart, Viktor stood and, leaving his coat behind, followed the agent to the concourse.
“Go wait at the locker room to help the ladies with their bags. We will depart as soon as they are ready.”
“Of course.” The hotel key and his gloves still in hand, Viktor headed for the locker rooms. As soon as he was out of sight of the agent, he tried to put his gloves and hotel key into a pocket only to find it already full. He moved them to the other pocket, which was empty, and checked the contents of the first. He pulled out a new pair of gloves, and his eyes widened. Brown leather with a fabric lining. He couldn’t afford something like this even if he saved for months. He quickly tucked them back into his pocket, and his fingers brushed paper. The other note, perhaps?
Sonya approached, a light of accomplishment in her eyes.
Viktor left the paper in the pocket and closed the distance between him and his daughter before scooping her into a hug. “You skated so well today.”
“Thanks, Papa.” She squeezed him tight before letting go. “I wish Mama could have been here.”
“I know. We will tell her all about it when we get home.” Viktor took Sonya’s skating bag from her and slid it over his shoulder. He hoped the note in his pocket meant that by the time they returned to Leningrad, he would have his own success story to share with his wife too.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Amaliya took her spot on the freshly groomed ice and proceeded to use her skate blades to draw the required design. Balance, precision, pacing. She concentrated on all three, Gordon’s guidance echoing through her mind. She and Tyler were the Olympic champions. They could do this.
She reached the top of her first figure eight, adding the required intricate pattern before continuing. The daily practices of doing this exact pattern allowed her body to react instinctively as she and Tyler completed the first pass and began their second. Besides mirroring her partner and the position of her blades, Amaliya concentrated on her arm position and posture.
When she and Tyler finished their task, they exited the rink. Gordon was at her side a moment later. He handed them both their skate guards.
Amaliya lifted one foot and slid the guard into place and repeated the process with the other. “What do you think?”
“I’d say your practice may have very well paid off.” Gordon put one hand on her back and another on Tyler’s shoulder. “Well done.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope the judges agree with you,” Tyler added.
The words were barely out of his mouth when the scores posted. Five eights and five nines across the board out of a possible six.
“Not bad,” Gordon said. “That puts you in first.”
With six more pairs to skate.
“Is it enough to keep us there?” Tyler asked.
“Let’s go sit and watch your competition,” Gordon said.
Amaliya followed Gordon to their seats and sat between him and Tyler. With the rest of today’s results out of their control, she focused on the stands rather than the couple currently on the ice. She spotted her mom with Linda and Tyler’s mom. Tyler’s dad and Miles weren’t anywhere to be seen.
She scanned the crowd for any other familiar faces. When she didn’t spot any, she scanned again.
Tyler leaned closer. “Looking for your uncle?”
“I don’t see him anywhere.” Her gaze landed on a man near the entrance to the seating area where Popov and Sidrova had been sitting a moment ago. “Looks like they have some Soviet security people here though.” Amaliya jutted her chin in the man’s direction. “That guy down there. Dark hair, long coat.”
“You knew they would have someone watching the athletes,” Gordon said.
“It’s funny that I never noticed that before we went to Leningrad,” Amaliya said. “Now it seems like I see suspicious people everywhere.”
“Being followed around for a couple weeks can make you paranoid.”
The previous pair’s scores posted, the scores averaging in the five six range. Popov and Sidrova stepped onto the ice and began their first of three figures.
“I really hate waiting,” Amaliya said.
Tyler laughed. “When you go last, you always say you hate not being able to see our competition skate.”
“I must be hard to please.”
Tyler put his hand on hers. “That’s not true.”
Amaliya’s thoughts flitted to what would come after this weekend and the uncertainty surrounding the decisions she and Tyler had yet to make. This could be their last competition, their last time competing in figures. She shook that thought away. Whether it was their last time or not, she needed to enjoy the moment, even if it did mean stressing through the waiting game.
“We’re going to be in first after figures.” Amaliya linked her fingers through Tyler’s. “I can feel it.”
Tyler let out a long breath. “I hope you’re right.”
First place. The familiar rush of accomplishment flowed through Tyler as he and Amaliya greeted his parents by the security station next to the athletes’ entrance.
“You were incredible!” His mom embraced him before speaking to both him and Amaliya. “You both skated so well.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You really were amazing,” his dad added. He nodded toward Amaliya. “Both of you.”
Amaliya’s face lit up. “Thank you.”
The flow of participants and coaches continued toward the exits, their expressions ranging from accomplished to disappointed. Tyler had been on both sides of the equation, and he couldn’t deny that he loved the rush that came from performing his best and receiving scores that confirmed he and Amaliya had come out on top.
Gordon approached from the adjoining hallway. “Okay, we’re all set. I have our practice and warm-up schedules for tomorrow.”
“Will we be able to watch the ladies’ short programs?” Amaliya asked.
“We’ll miss the first half, but we’ll be here by the time Sonya competes,” Gordon said.
Amaliya’s expression brightened. “Good.”
Tyler’s dad lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Amaliya, your mom and the Donnellys already left. They’re meeting us at the car.”
“Did Mama have any problems getting here?” Amaliya asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
“Not that we saw.”
“Glad everything went smoothly,” Tyler said.
“So are we.” Tyler’s mom slipped her arm around his waist as Gordon reached them. “We were just telling Amaliya and Tyler how great they looked today.”
“I agree,” Gordon said. “These two may have forgotten how to lose.”
Anticipation and excitement surged through Tyler. “Tomorrow will be the real test.”
“We love a challenge, remember?” Amaliya squeezed his hand. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t skate for Gordon.”
Tyler chuckled. “True.”
“Let’s get you two back to the hotel,” Gordon said. “You need to stretch and get some sleep.”
“We’re ready.” Tyler said goodbye to his parents and walked with Amaliya and Gordon toward the reserved parking for the athletes.
Gordon started in on his typical post-competition pep talk, chatting about what they had done well, what he wanted them to focus on for tomorrow, what their schedule was for the next day.
“I’m a little nervous that it’s Popov and Sidrova in second place right now,” Amaliya said as they reached their rental car.
“You beat the Soviets before. You can do it again.” Gordon unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. As soon as Amaliya took her spot in the front seat and Tyler in the back, Gordon continued. “Focus on skating your best. You can’t worry about everyone else.”
Amaliya laughed. “That’s what you always say.”
“And look what happens when you listen.”
When they listened to Gordon, they won. And they could keep winning. Tyler let that thought settle and enjoyed the rush of adrenaline that had yet to fade after tonight’s performance. Would he feel like this after a performance with an ice show? Or was this sensation something he would lose forever once he hung up his amateur status?
At the moment, winning gold was his priority. Now he just had to find a way to settle down enough to sleep tonight.
Artyom had made it nearly two days without interacting with Budimir, and he appreciated every moment of the break. Granted, he had spent as much time in his room as possible. What better way to avoid the man’s ulterior motives than to stay out of sight completely by dedicating himself to the desk in his hotel room?
Despite the paperwork and constant monitoring of athletes and juggling transportation schedules, the loss of his grandmother had consumed his thoughts more often than he cared to admit, and dealing with the possible kidnapping of a former Soviet citizen was a stress he didn’t need. The gnawing ache in his center had become commonplace, as had his endless stream of regrets.
He should have spent more time with his grandmother. He should have visited more often. He should have paid more attention when she’d shared her stories. He should have written them down. The list went on and could easily duplicate itself for the other family members he had lost.
Alone. The word haunted him with annoying frequency, but it also described him far too well.
He pushed aside the latest practice schedule and leaned back in his chair. His conversation with Viktor on the balcony a couple days ago pushed forward in his mind. The man had done a good job of hiding his desire to see his sister, but Artyom couldn’t miss Viktor’s love for his family. That kind of love didn’t go away.
He had no idea if anything had come of the tidbit Josef had shared. Artyom secretly hoped not.
The figures competition was already underway. He checked the bedside clock. Or perhaps the competition had already concluded. He had received word that Sonya had performed well and was in second place, a nice improvement to where she had started her Olympic competition.
A heavy-handed fist pounded on his door. His gut clenched. Budimir.
Artyom forced himself to stand and cross the room. He pulled the door open.
“Why was Viktor Petrov serving meals instead of attending the pairs competition?”
“I thought he was at the pairs competition.” Artyom took a step back, not because he wanted to invite Budimir into his room but rather to prevent himself from being bowled over when the KGB officer pushed his way inside.
“Not only was he not there—Katerina Petrova was.”
Artyom jolted at that news. “She’s here? You saw her?”
“Only from a distance at the end of the competition.” Pure evil flashed on Budimir’s face. “She stayed away from her daughter, but one of my men spotted her leaving surrounded by her American friends.”
“If she attended the figures, I’m sure she’ll be at the short program,” Artyom said. Even though the thought of Budimir being successful in his quest made him want to squirm, Artyom said, “I’ll make a point of giving Viktor permission to attend the pairs events.”
“See that you do.” Budimir glared for a moment before he turned and left Artyom’s room.
Artyom pushed the door closed behind him and bolted it. A tremor ran through him. Needing to put as much distance between himself and the KGB agent, he slipped on his coat and walked out onto the balcony. The room beside him remained quiet, but the parking lot below was bustling with activity.
Several cars vied for the few available spaces. One car circled twice before finally taking a recently vacated spot across from the side entrance. Beneath the wash of the parking lamps, five people climbed out of the car, two men and three women. One of the women hurried to the side entrance and opened the door. The rest followed, one of the women walking in the center of the others as though shielding herself from view.
Artyom’s eyes narrowed. The petite build, the graceful movements as she walked. It couldn’t be.
The woman looked around quickly as though expecting someone might be searching for her. Could that be Katerina Petrova?
One of the KGB agents appeared at the corner of the building, his gaze drawn to the foursome. He spoke to the man beside him for a moment. It took a second for Artyom to identify him as Josef. Both Josef and the agent watched the new arrivals until they disappeared inside. A moment later, the agent sprinted to follow them through the side entrance.
Josef remained by the front of the building for a moment longer, but then, he too rushed to follow the others.
Questions rambled through Artyom’s mind. Would Katerina really stay at the same hotel as the Soviet team? If so, did the KGB now know how to find her? And did Josef Petrov have any clue what they had planned?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Katerina couldn’t be prouder. She had stayed through the entire competition, long enough to see how her daughter and Tyler had ended up in the standings. Her heart swelled with joy, and she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Amaliya and Tyler were amazing tonight.”
“They always are.” Nancy stopped in the hotel hallway outside of her and Grant’s room. After the competition, she had convinced everyone to stop by a restaurant she had found for dessert to make sure they arrived at the hotel after the Soviets returned so they wouldn’t have to worry about extra security outside.
